


the difficulty that is marriage

by prettyhearse



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, ignore the title btw they arent married (yet)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyhearse/pseuds/prettyhearse
Summary: “I just wish it was easier. I wish that I could just love you or hate you.”“I’m a lot easier to hate, so I'd go with that, if I were you.”





	the difficulty that is marriage

**Author's Note:**

> hi i love moircy and??? yeah that's all. the title is a reference to the poem of the same name by paul durcan (moira does love her irish literature so i thought why not) and i'd highly recommend reading it because it's what kind of inspired this? i'm honestly writing more moircy than i can keep up with so there's more where this shit came from. cheers.

“Are you still awake?”

 

Moira peered over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Angela’s in the dim light from the street lamps outside. “Mhm. You?”

 

Angela squinted at her and scoffed. “No.”

 

 

Grinning, Moira rolled over and wrapped her arms around Angela. “C’mere to me,” she mumbled, pulling her close. “Didn’t I tell you drinking two espressos at ten o’clock at night was a bad idea?”

 

“Look, I knew what I was doing,” Angela said as she settled into Moira’s arms. “I was expecting to… you know…”

 

 

“Well, I’m very flattered to hear that you thought I would tire you out enough to undo the damage of two double espressos,” Moira chuckled, running her fingers through Angela’s hair .

 

Angela scoffed at her again. “You wish, Moira.”

 

 

“Oh, you meant that the sex was so good that you’ve been awake all night thinking about it. Understandable.”

 

 

“Shut up,” Angela muttered, hiding her face in Moira’s chest. “Is that why you’re still awake? You were already half asleep after I finished with you.”

 

 

“Well, I _was_ asleep,” she began. “But I woke up about an hour ago when my body copped that I haven’t supplied it with nicotine for about six hours.”

 

 

“Yet another reason to quit, hm?”

 

 

“You know, Angela, I was actually  just  thinking,” Moira pulled back a bit to tilt Angela’s face up towards her, “That you may have picked the hotel with the strictest no smoking policy on the planet on purpose . I can’t enjoy a cigarette without walking two blocks away in the pissing rain.”

 

 

“I left the nicotine patches in your bag for a reason. You’re suffering out of spite,” Angela said before pressing a quick kiss to Moira’s lips. “By the way, you’re so much nicer to kiss when you haven’t been smoking.” 

 

“So _that’s_ why you were so keen tonight,” Moira muttered, kissing her back. “  Maybe  I’ll give quitting another try then.”

 

 

“You should,” Angela pulled back and pressed her forehead against Moira’s, shifting closer to her . “You will try, won’t you?”

 

 

Moira hummed in response, smiling against Angela’s lips as she kissed her again. “Once I’m finished this pack, we’ll see.”

 

 

“Well, I can always make HQ a completely smoke free campus,” Angela said with a smirk. “ Just  to give you a helping hand.”

 

 

“Do that and I’m booking my flight back to Dublin first thing tomorrow,” said Moira, giving Angela a stern look.

 

 

“Good.  I’ve been needing some extra storage space,” Angela joked as she snuggled up to Moira, closing her eyes as Moira continued combing her hair out with her fingers  .  They stayed that way for a while, Moira twirling a strand of Angela’s hair around her fingers, Angela’s legs tangling with hers . Moira’s eyes traced over Angela’s face, almost willing her to open her eyes. Angela could feel her staring.

 

 “If you can’t sleep, I can go out with you for a smoke,” Angela said, keeping her eyes shut.

 

 

Moira sniffed. “I’ll live, Angie. Besides, you look too cute to disturb.”

 

 

“Quiet, you,” she murmured, trying to hide her smile as Moira kissed her again, not pulling back this time. Angela kissed her back with equal vigour, opening her eyes to meet Moira’s half-lidded gaze. She could feel her smirking into the kiss.

 

 

But even as they grabbed at each other, pressing their bodies together, Angela felt like they were a million miles apart  . Moira may as well be back in Dublin.  It was as though there was this gap wedged between them that no amount of sex or kissing or benzodiazepines or alcohol could fill  . She often wondered if Moira felt the same way.  After all, for all her slights and jokes, she too never dared bring up what ever happened the night before once they stepped out of the bedroom . Angela felt that familiar pang in her chest and pulled away, sighing. Moira cupped her face with a gentle hand.

 

 

“Something wrong?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

 

 

“It’s nothing,” Angela mumbled, kissing Moira’s cheek. “ Just  tired.”

 

 

“Angela,” Moira grabbed her face, forcing her to look at her. “I know you.”

 

 

Angela shut her eyes again and forced a wan smile. “It’s  just … I’ve been thinking a lot lately… what are we?”

 

 

Moira's grip on her face loosened and she bit her lip. She stared at the framed Van Gogh print on the wall behind Angela, her brow furrowed. It wasn’t something she  really  wanted to think about. Especially not now with her being nicotine deprived. What were they? She didn’t know. Angela  probably  didn’t either, she was sure.  Despite sharing the same bed, the same bed they’d ravished each other on earlier, the same bed Angela held her close and  breathlessly  whispered ‘I love you’ to, she didn’t know  .  She didn’t know what she meant when she pulled back mid-kiss to press her forehead against Angela’s and whisper ‘God, I fucking love you’ to her, before capturing her lips in a kiss again and pinning her down to the bed .

 

 

It  just  happened.

 

 

Like how their first kiss  just  happened, and their first time happened and all the times after that.  She didn’t think about what it meant when Angela hugged her from behind while she was working or when she pulled Angela into her office and locked the door as she kissed her against the wall .

 

She didn’t know what it meant.

 

 

She didn’t  really  want to know.

 

 

“Moira?”

 

 

Moira stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. Angela had shifted away from her, lying on her back now, gazing up at the ceiling.

 

 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

 

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Moira scooted closer to her, resting her head on her chest. “I was  just  thinking.”

 

 

Angela looked down at Moira  expectantly  and Moira was quick to shift her gaze elsewhere.  Angela frowned, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was searching for something she’d lost in Moira’s face . Moira said nothing. Angela held her breath.

 

 

“What do _you_ think we are?” Moira managed to ask after a moment or two, closing her eyes.

 

 

Angela paused, examining the stippled paint on the ceiling above them. “I’m not sure.”

 

“That makes two of us then.”

 

They both forced a laugh and then went quiet again, until Angela cleared her throat.

 

 

 

“When you said you loved me earlier,” Angela whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “What did you mean?”

 

 

“I don’t know,” Moira didn’t open her eyes. “It  just  came out.”

 

 

“Oh.” Angela’s tone was so unreadable, but Moira didn’t dare look at her.

 

 

“What about you?”

 

 

“I don’t know either. I wasn’t thinking about it. It  just … happened.”

 

 

“Wow, we really do have a lot in common,” Moira joked, risking opening her eyes to meet Angela’s gaze. Angela giggled and found Moira’s hand under the duvet, intertwining their fingers. The gesture seemed to bridge some sort gap between them.

 

 

But again, there was silence.

 

 

“Would you say it now?” Angela asked, holding her breath.

 

 

Moira frowned. “What- that I love you?”

 

 

“Yes.”

 

“I suppose… I suppose I would. But I don’t think-”

 

 

 

“It’s fine to say you wouldn’t,” Angela said, a strained smile on her face.

 

 

 

“Angie,” Moira tightened her grip on her hand. “I do love you, you know. Would I  really  be here, not smoking if I didn’t?”

 

 

Angela sniffed. “But it’s not… _love_ love, is it?”

 

 

Moira paused. “I don’t think so. It’s…  just  love”

 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

 

Moira bit her lip again. “Positive.”

  

“I’m the same. It’s not _love_ love.  Just  love”

 

 

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Moira said, running her thumb over Angela’s knuckles. " _Just_ love."

 

 

“I  just  wish it was easier. I wish that I could  just  love you or hate you.”

 

“I’m a lot easier to hate, so I’d go with that, if I were you.”

 

 

 

Angela laughed. “No, I couldn’t _hate_ you. Besides, if I did, you’d ruin me. You’d be on to the press as soon as possible.”

 

 

“Angela! I would _never_ ,” Moira pulled her away, pouting.

 

 

Angela  just  giggled, shaking her head at her before her smiled faded again. “So, what are we then?”

 

 

“Friends?” Moira paused for a moment as Angela raised an eyebrow at her. “With benefits?”

 

 

“More like friends with _consequences_ ,” Angela smirked.

 

 

“I’ll have your PhD revoked, Angela.  Just  you wait.”

 

 

They both chuckled, trailing off until the dreaded silence fell upon them once again.

 

 

“Friends with benefits, then?” Angela looked down at Moira again.

 

 

“What, do you want in writing or something?” Moira scoffed, but there was an unmistakable waver in her voice that Angela couldn’t help but notice.

 

 

“I  just  wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. I  was worried .”

 

 

“About what?”

 

 

Angela paused.  “I don’t know… We  just  never  really  acknowledge stuff like this at work and I thought that  maybe  you didn’t have the same feelings for me that I have for you .”

 

 

“I  just  like to keep my professional life separated from my personal life,” Moira explained. “I’m hardly going to walk into your lab and say ‘Thanks for eating me out last night,

Angie.’”

 

 

Angela snorted. “Of course.”

 

 

“I do care about you though. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

 

 

“I care about you too,” Angela ran her fingers through Moira’s hair, pushing her fringe back. “Why else would I nag you about smoking all the time?”

 

“Good to know,” Moira mumbled, leaning into Angela’s touch. “Speaking of, I should run out and get a quick smoke in. I’d like to get at least an hour’s sleep before our flight

tomorrow.”

 

“No, don’t,” Angela protested, clamping her arm around her shoulders. “I have some quetiapine in my makeup bag, you can take some of that.”

 

 

Moira stared up at her with wide eyes, propping herself up on her elbow.  “Dr. Ziegler, are you encouraging me to partake in illegal possession of prescription drugs ?”

 

 

“Take your pills and go to sleep,” Angela said, reaching over to her bedside table and fumbling around in her makeup bag . “Here. You can use my water.”

 

 

“You’re a bad girl, Angela,” Moira said as she popped two pills out of the strip and knocked them back. “You’ll be carrying me to the airport tomorrow.”

 

 

“I’m leaving you here if you don’t get up,” Angela wrapped her arms around Moira’s waist and pulled her into her lap. “Now be quiet and go to sleep. That coffee’s starting to

wear off.”

 

 

“Yes, Dr. Ziegler,” Moira murmured, giggling. “One more thing though.”

 

 

“What?” Angela muttered.

 

 

“I _just_ love you.”

 

 

Angela rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I  just  love you too.”


End file.
